


Birdwatching

by DragonWrites



Category: The Adventure Zone (Podcast)
Genre: Crew as Family, Fluff, Gen, It's like 90 Percent Fluff I promise, Look I tried, My muse wanted to make this super angsty but I said No Thanks Chuckles, Post-Canon, Rated T for swearing, Spoilers for TAZ: Balance, TFW Discord encouraged me and now here we are, well mostly fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-14
Updated: 2018-09-14
Packaged: 2019-07-12 06:46:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,741
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15989864
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DragonWrites/pseuds/DragonWrites
Summary: Don't believe everything you hear.  Especially if it's broadcast directly into your brain by a magical space jellyfish.After the Day of Story and Song, one tabloid reporter is determined to dig up the truth about the IPRE crew, and reveal them for the nefarious vampire bird aliens they secretly are.





	Birdwatching

It starts with Lucretia.  Her picture is plastered on the front of the _Goldcliff Gabbler_ \--the biggest tabloid in Faerun--and it is not a flattering picture.  She appears to be looking down at the audience, her face smushed into a dangerous glower.  The fantasy photo--captured for printing via cutting-edge illusion magic--has been drained of color, and there's a grainy quality to it, like someone was hiding in a corner and captured her in a rare candid moment with a shitty fantasy camera.

**MOON MISTRESS MEANS MORE MISCHIEF** , the headline suggests ominously.  And beneath it, in smaller but still-bold red type, **Can We Really Believe Her Story?**

Lucretia is normally not one for paying attention to lurid tabloids, no sir.  Definitely not.  And nobody can prove otherwise.  She just happened to pick this one up out of morbid curiosity, just to see what the world--or, rather, one particular rag reporter--has to say about her.

"Over a year after the Day of Story and Song," the article begins, "after the horrific attacks that stunned an entire world, troubling questions arise as to the nature of these seven heroes, the so-called Seven Birds, aka the Saviors of Faerun.  Where did they come from?  What are their intentions?  It is easy to fall back on the answers provided by the now-famous Story that Madame Director Lucretia of the secretive Bureau of Balance blasted into our brains via magic space jellyfish.  But I for one am skeptical, especially when it comes to mystical brain broadcasts via creatures not even native to this dimension.

"My research into this phenomenon has yielded concerning results.  One of the Birds, Magnus Burnsides, confirmed via questioning that this Voidfish (aka 'Fisher') is theoretically capable of broadcasting any submission it deems worthy:  anything from music to lascivious dwarf dances to works of complete fiction.  Which raises the troubling question:  how can we believe the so-called Story?  What if it is simply that:  a story, a work of fiction that the Director chose to broadcast?  Just at the moment when the sky turned black and the citizens of Faerun were desperate for help?

"It would be a simple step from there to convincing the amassed citizens of Faerun to then look to these so-called Heroes, to allow them into positions of leadership and authority over us:  positions for which they have no demonstrated qualifications, other than what the Director has broadcast to us--again--via a magical space jellyfish.  If she can do that, what else is this nefarious figure capable of?  The Story all but admits that the Hunger came to Faerun specifically because of their actions!

"I don't know about you, my fellow citizens, but there are too many questions, too many plot-holes in this so-called 'story.'  I plan to dig deeper.  I will not rest until I uncover the real truth about the Seven Birds.  Watch the _Goldcliff Gabbler_ for more updates and discoveries as I turn over this rock and reveal the unseemly underbelly of this yet-unfinished tale.

"Yours in Truth, Birdwatcher."

Lucretia snorts, and takes a long sip of her coffee.  There's no unseemly underbelly to this story that she hasn't already been held to account for, by people whose opinions she actually cares about.

"Good fucking luck," she says, and turns the page to read the latest updates about Bat Elf Boy.

#

Birdwatcher's investigations catch the eye of the other Birds when the following week's _Gabbler_ features an embarrassing picture of Barry stumbling on some steps.  One hand is out to catch his fall, but the picture is angled in such a way that his outstretched hand partially blocks his face, as if he's dismissing the cameraperson.  Above the picture is the headline **LICH ON THE LOOSE!  Bluejeans Loses Control of his Denim Phylactery!**

Taako snickers as he tosses the tabloid on the coffee table.  "Hey Barold," he says, "I didn't know you used your jeans as a phylactery!  What's it like, having your soul go through Laundry Day?"

Barry blinks at him.  He's just walked through the door and slumped down on the couch after a long day of reaper work, so all he can manage is a confused "What?" 

Lup leans over him and snatches up the offending paper, opening it up to the article.  "Whoa, Barry, you never told me!" she says, in a tone of mock hurt. 

"Sad but true!" says Taako.  "You married a pair of jeans.  So don't ever complain about me dating the Grim Reaper ever again!"

"Well, I mean, we're all technically Grim Reapers now--" Barry begins, still not quite processing what's happening.

Lup snorts.  "Oh my gods!  'Barry Bluejeans is seen here wrestling with his signature denim trousers for control over his body!'  Barry!  You're _actually_ a pair of jeans possessing a human body!  'The nefarious trousers--'"

"My new band name, by the way," Taako adds.

Lup grins.  "'The nefarious trousers move from host body to host body, allowing the lich's denim-bound soul to move at its own convenience'!  Barry, this is _gold!"_   She flops onto the couch, laughing so hard that her eyes water.

Kravitz takes the tabloid from her.  "Now that's just patently ridiculous," he says.

"I know, right?" says Barry, the technical error finally pulling him out of his post-work stupor and into the present moment.  "That's not how phylacteries work!  And denim would make an awful phylactery.  You'd have to always keep it on your person, which would--I mean, that'd get pretty rank, pretty fast."

"Barold," says Taako, slinging a companionable arm around his brother-in-law's shoulders, "you are absolutely right.  And if I were you, I'd get ahead of this dude and write your own story.  Publish a little autobiography, tell folks what's _really_ up.  I even got the title for you."  He spreads his hands.  "Denim-Bound Soul: My Life as a Jecromancer."

Barry blinks.  "Jecromancer?"

"Jean Necromancer.  Try to keep up.  I'm telling you, _guaranteed_ best-seller."

"Oh."  Barry scrunches his nose.  He takes the article from Kravitz, scans it.  "Should I be concerned that this, uh, Birdwatcher is stalking me?"

"Pfft."  Taako rolls his eyes.  "You're like a stupidly powerful lich AND a reaper.  I doubt this person is actually capable of laying a finger on you.  And they know that, so they just yap at whatever silly tabloid will pay them for this so-called scoop.  Nobody believes it anyway.  This sort of paparazzi attention is just a natural part of being more famous than this person will ever be."

"My brother laying down the real scoop," says Lup, lounging against her husband.  She takes the tabloid and sets it on fire.  "Just ashes in the wind, babe."

And that's when the house's smoke alarm begins ringing.

"Damn it," she says.  "I knew we shouldn't have had those installed."

#

Merle squints at the tabloid on the paper.  "Wait," he says, rubbing his bearded chin, "when did this happen, again?"

"It didn't!" says Magnus, throwing up his hands.  "That's the point!"

"Oh good," says Merle.  "I'd've been hurt."

Taako raises both eyebrows.  "Wait, wait, wait," he says.  " _You'd've_ been hurt?"  He taps this week's front-page headline, **MAN-EATER MAGNUS BURNSIDES: Leader of Secret Cannibal Cult!**   The picture below it is a grainy nighttime shot of Magnus biting into a turkey leg from a beach barbecue Merle had thrown last week. 

"Well, yeah!" says Merle.  "I mean, if he was part of a secret club and didn't invite me, I'd be sad!"

Taako snickers.  Magnus just looks mortified. 

Kravitz hurries up to the café table, a raven bobbing on his shoulder.  "Oi, sorry I'm late!" he says in his work accent, taking the fourth seat.  "Morning job ran a little over.  Did the rest of you order, already?"

"It's okay, babe," says Taako, smiling over at Kravitz.  "We just got here, like, five minutes ago.  You're all good."  He slides the menu across the table.   "Also, work accent!"

Kravitz blushes.  "Oops," he says, his voice shifting.  "Sorry about that!"

A server comes over.  Their eyes widen as they realize who they're serving--a common enough phenomenon, for the Saviors of Faerun--but then they avert their eyes quickly.  "H-hi," they say.  "I'm Woof, and I'll be your--um, your server today."

"Hi, Woof!" says Magnus, slipping out of his funk and into his usual Rustic Hospitality™.  "Hail and well met!  I am Magnus Burnsides!  By the way, I love your name!"

The server pales a little.  Again, not unexpected, but Magnus just grins wider.  "Got any specials today?"

"We don't serve people," they blurt out in a badly-concealed squeak.

Kravitz raises an eyebrow.  "You're serving people now," he says.  "Many people, by the looks of it."  He waves a hand to indicate the many people seated at tables on the café's open patio.

The server blushes harder.  "I mean…we're not serving p-people to, you know…eat."  They look wide-eyed at Magnus.  "Please don't eat me," they add in a whisper.

Magnus's smile fades as he finally catches on.  "Oh," he says.  "Oh, no, I don't--no."

Taako sighs.  "Lemme handle this," he says, getting to his feet.  "Woof, is it?"  He gently takes the server by the elbow and guides them away.  "Lemme tell you a little something about not believing everything you read…"

His voice fades into the café's gentle white noise of conversation as they step away.  Merle pats Magnus on the hand in gruff reassurance.  Kravitz sighs.  The raven who accompanied him taps its beak against the menu, prompting a second, louder sigh from Kravitz.  "I suppose you want something too?" he remarks.

"This sucks," says Magnus.

Nobody disagrees with him.

#

The Birds aren't surprised when the next week's headline comes out. 

**FEATHERED FIENDS:  Seven Birds Are Actually Birds in Disguise!!  More exclusive pictures inside!!!**

The picture is of Merle, Magnus, and Kravitz sitting at the café table with the raven.  Taako isn't at the table, and Kravitz's face is turned towards the bird as he speaks.  The raven's head is cocked as if listening--which, to be fair, it was.

Taako sighs dramatically as the article is discussed over Family Dinner.  The whole crew is there, poring over pictures of various birds badly altered to be in locations where the crew are known to hang out.   A parrot perches on the deck railing of Davenport's ship.  A mourning dove is sitting on Lucretia's desk.  Merle's beard has been altered so that the petals and leaves flowing from it are actually feathers.

Their reactions are mixed.  Barry is more baffled than anything, Magnus is despondent, Lucretia and Lup continue to be amused (not that he cares what Lucretia thinks), Davenport stares at the articles like they're puzzles meant to be worked out, and Merle seems half-convinced that the articles might be true.

"Listen," says Lup.  "We can't let this Birdwatcher get under our skin like this.  These accusations are patently ridiculous and we all know it!"

"It's true," says Lucretia.  "I'd've made you a phoenix, not a cardinal."

"That is rad, and exactly my point!  This person doesn't know us!  Taako, help me out."

Taako smiles languidly and waves an arm, dismissing the pile of tabloids.  "Caw," he says.

Barry snickers.  Merle spits out his tea, guffawing, and the sound of dwarvish mirth breaks the tension.  Magnus's frown slowly turns upside-down.

#

The tabloids remain a topic of dinner conversation over the next several weeks.  Friends come and go, copies of the _Gabbler_ in hand, and they all laugh together as the headlines get increasingly ridiculous.  Everyone who knows them knows the truth, and play along with the game.

Carey and Killian bring a casserole and jokingly apologize for the garlic after **MADAME DIRECTOR: SECRET VAMPIRE** graces the headlines one week.  It features a candid picture of Lucretia drinking a goblet full of wine that's been altered to look thick and blood-red.  Lucretia graciously thanks them for the casserole and insists she was only a vampire "that one cycle."  She cracks only the slightest of smiles when the two women pale slightly. 

Taako opens up all the windows in the house and installs a few skylights when an article breaks claiming **HALF-ELF, HALF-PLANT?  Alien Elf Photosynthesizes!**  It features a picture of Lup sunbathing on a beach.

"I'm just lookin' out for my weird plant sister," he says when she comes home. 

"Oh man, I'll need a crowbar to keep Merle off me," she says with a grin. 

It turns out there's no need, according to next week's article.  **PLANT-HATER MERLE: Rogue Pannite Savages His God's Creation!!** graces the cover.  The terribly unflattering picture shows a close-up of a grimacing Merle, hands full of plucked flowers.  Behind him is a devastated field that looks like it's been trampled by a troop of giants wearing cleats.  It's a badly-altered image, the lighting between the two images completely different.

"I was makin' a flower crown for Mavis," Merle insists, squinting at the picture.  "I don't even know where that field is!"

"So you're saying, I won't be needing this?" asks Lup, holding up the crowbar.

**LUP AND TAAKO REVEALED TO BE BONELESS** , next week's issue claims.  They're draped across a couch together, cat-like.  Next to them is a side-by-side X-ray shot of a 'normal Faerun elf skeleton' next to an 'alien elf skeleton,' the latter with the bones removed.  Magnus appears to be crying in horror in the corner of the front page, next to text that reads, _'They just don't got any!' says fellow crewmate Magnus Burnsides_.

"You really need to stop talking to this Birdwatcher thug," Taako remarks, at their next dinner. 

Magnus sighs loudly.  "I never said that!  And I was crying over a litter of puppies!"

"Listen," says Davenport, "we all may have been crying over those puppies--"

"They're so small!" Magnus cries.  "I wanna protect them!"

"Yes, naturally.  But if someone is getting close enough to take these pictures, then that's a serious concern."  He pauses, blinking.  "I make no bones about it."

There's a moment of silence.  And then the crew laughs as Captain Davenport, grinning, casts an illusion over himself to appear like he's flopping boneless into his chair.

#

And so it goes.  They turn the headlines into in-jokes and pranks.  Taako lines his house with crosses to keep out Vampire Lucretia, Magnus offers to water Lup with a watering can, and Barry has conversations with his jeans ("Yes, master…they haven't caught on, I promise…").  Lup orders a new set of business cards printed up for Lucretia, which read _Madame Director - Secret Vampire_ on them, and for a good month, Lucretia uses them in earnest "just to see who'll actually comment on it."

But there's a brittle quality to the jokes.  They all see the way the rumors spread and latch onto the public.  There's a few faces in every crowd who cast wary glances at them, who frown, who hesitate before extending them a reluctant greeting.  More and more of their time is spent disabusing the public of false notions before they can get to the business of actually helping people rebuild.

The worst it gets, or so they think, is when a panic nearly breaks out among the public.   **HUNGRY FOR MORE!** the headline screams. **Man Claims to be John Hunger Returned from the Dead!!**

"Naah," says Merle, dismissing it easily.  "John looked nothing like that."

But it takes a long time for folks to believe him.  For people to trust what he's saying.  They might not believe he's secretly a plant-hating bird, but they know he's an alien who rose to prominence because of what one secretive woman with unclear motives said about him.

Lucretia comes over one night, and she and Lup have a long conversation over tea in the sitting room.  Taako leaves them in peace, but he sees the cover of the latest issue, the one that Lucretia fears is interfering with the Bureau of Benevolence's work.  **THE VILLAIN BEHIND IT ALL** , the paper says simply, over yet another picture of Lucretia glowering.  In the corner is a picture of Taako turning away, as if giving the cold shoulder to her image.  There's no other text.  It's a shockingly simple cover, forcing the reader to turn inward for more.

He flips to Page 2.  Lucretia stands proud, iron-spined.  Images of the rest of the crew are arrayed around her; all their expressions are variations on disgust and horror. 

**Director Lucretia Forsaken by her Family After her Role Behind S &S Events Revealed!  **The words are spread across both pages.  He scans the page, wondering idly if Birdwatcher had, in fact, discovered Lucy's true role behind that day.  If they'd somehow learned about the depth of the schemes she'd pulled.  Many Bureau employees already know about how she'd erased Lup from his life, how she'd tricked her own former family into working for her, how she'd shut out Barry and put her traumatized Captain in a little tux and had him run errands. 

But the general public doesn't know about that, and Birdwatcher hasn't blasted open that wound yet.  Instead, it piles a few random sins at her feet and builds it up into a case for her being, somehow, the one controlling the Hunger.  The article talks about her as a distant, snappish boss, who erased her own dead employees from the world's memory and subjected newcomers to brutal and sometimes lethal tests of initiation.  It talks about her sheer power, and her cold, alien nature.  If she was the one who supposedly dispersed the Hunger, the article claims, could it not have been she who was controlling it?  Was she not collecting the relics specifically for this purpose?  It's a simple step from there to believing that she created it in the first place.

It's a ludicrous theory.  But it's close enough to the truth to be plausible, to grin and shake a few hands and slip unnoticed into the party.

When Lucretia leaves for the night, Lup hums thoughtfully as she brings their teacups into the kitchen.  "She's really shook, Koko," she mumbles, as she washes the dishes.  "She's really afraid that this is going to tarnish the B.O.B's good work."  She pauses.  "And--you know, most of us have forgiven her, but she still doubts, you know."

"Most of us," he agrees.

Lup doesn't argue.  Doesn't push.  Forgiveness is for him to decide, and he's made his decision.

#

The final straw lands when Davenport storms into their family dinner and slams the latest issue on the coffee table.  His face is red.  None of them have seen him this angry in a while.  He's practically vibrating.

**SHIP SUNK: GNOME "CAPTAIN" REVEALED TO BE FAKE**

The picture beneath it is him frowning at the dry dock as the wreck of his Wave Smasher is pulled up out of the water for repairs.  Lucretia picks it up to read the article, but she knows what she's going to find.  They all do.  The crew sits quietly, saying nothing, as her eyes scan the page.

She sets it down.  "So they think--"

"They think I can't pilot a ship!" he snaps, as Lucretia's words break the dam.  He throws his hands up in the air.  "I get into one accident--one!--and this person has the _gall_ to say I couldn't possibly have piloted the Starblaster!  Because I'm a--"  He breaks off.  He doesn't need to say the next words.

Taako frowns.  "So this asshole is stupid _and_ a racist," he says.   

Davenport glares at the carpet, face red.

"Fuck that noise," says Lup, getting to her feet.  "You know what I think?"  And she snatches up the tabloid and rips it in half.  "I'm gonna make my own fucking tabloid!  And it'll be a thousand times better than this tripe!"  She points to Davenport.  "And the banner headline is gonna be how Davenport is the greatest starship pilot who ever lived!"

Davenport's tense figure relaxes.  He gives her a weak smile.  "You don't have to do that, Lup—"

"And he can shoot laser beams out of his eyes!" Magnus cheers.  "And can lift a hundred times his own weight!"

He blinks.  "What?"

Merle is on his feet.  "Yeah!  A good tabloid needs something spicy!  Ya know, to spice it up!"  He spreads his hands.  "Lup Kicks Ass and Breathes Fire!  Maybe She's A Dragon?"

Lup chuckles.  "Okay, that is legit amazing and I am totally on board."

"So what, we're doing this?" asks Taako, also rising to his feet.

"Oh, we are _doing this!_ "  She picks up a bottle of tequila off the liquor shelf.  "You want Dragon Lup?  Dav, take my picture!"  She swigs a mouthful of booze and then spits it out, catching the spray on fire with a flick of her fingers.  Davenport flicks his wand and captures the image.

"Got it!" he says.  "Lucretia—do you have any paper?"

Lucretia smiles.  "Do I have paper?"  She flicks her wand and pulls a steamer chest out of the ether.  She flicks open the latches, revealing stacks of blank journals and loose sheets.

Davenport grins and flicks his wand, and the image of a firebreathing Lup appears on the top sheet.  Another flick of the wand, and text appears over the image.  **LUP KICKS ASS AND BREATHES FIRE!**   **Is She Really a Dragon??  Turn to Page 2 to find out!**

Lup grins and blows a kiss.  "Who's next?"

Magnus flings an arm over her and Taako's shoulders.  "Magnus Burnsides a Long-Lost Triplet to the Hero Twins!  And also, he's an elf!"

Lup snickers.  "A new sweet baby brother!"

Taako wiggles his fingers, and the words "Honorary Elf" appear bedazzled on Magnus's shirt.

"Ooh, can I get like, stick-on elf ears?" he asks.  "But make 'em, like, obviously fake!"

"Oh sure, Mags," says Taako.  "We _are_ doing a tabloid, here!"  He picks up a free sheet of paper, folds them between his long fingers, and pulls and prods with magic until they're big rubbery fake ears.  He slips them over Magnus's stubby human ears, slightly askew, and grins as they flop just a little.  Davenport takes his picture, and adds it to the paper.

That is how the rest of the day unfolds.  They take goofy pictures of themselves, framed with skewed perspectives so Davenport appears taller than Barry, so Magnus appears to be holding the entire group on a single flexing arm, so Merle and Lup are fighting a giant wooden duck.  Lucretia glowers in the dark with glowing eyes, Lup and Taako pose in the sunlight with illusionary feathered wings outstretched. 

And when the summer daylight fades, they gather in the living room with more stacks of paper than they can shake a quill at, and write exclusive exposés about each other.

**MAGNUS BURNSIDES ABLE TO LIFT ENTIRE HORSE, ALSO OUR SPIRITS**

**WARRIOR CLERIC: Earl Merle Defends Entire Family, Remembers to Heal**

**ELF TWINS TAKE FLIGHT: The World Is Our Stage!**

**VAMPIRE QUEEN LUCRETIA IS THE BEST, CONFIRMS JEFFANDREW**

And it's not just articles.  Barry interviews Davenport on his cutting-edge bond-engineering work at the IPRE ( **AT THE EDGE: World Renowned Captain Davenport Talks Bonds** ).  Davenport writes a listicle of the things he saw in each crew member that led to their selection ( **BEST OF THE BEST: Six Unexpected Reasons the Mission Succeeded!** ). 

Half a page is dedicated to a customer review on Barry Bluejeans, written by a Secret Shopper known only as "Lup."  "When I first heard that a Barry Bluejeans was going to be on our ship, I was skeptical.  I thought, if you've seen one middle-aged human nerd, you've seen them all!  But Captain Davenport is an expert in the field of nerds, with notoriously impeccable standards, so I thought, why not?  I doubted that a nerd could surprise me, anyway.

"Boy, was I wrong.  Not only is Barry one of the kindest, most loving hearts I have ever met, but he has a butt that just won't quit!   It's been well over a century and there's no looking back for this elf gal!  Unless I'm looking back at his cute face ;)  I give Barry J. Bluejeans Seven Starblasters out of Five, my highest rating!"

And at the end of an evening of goofy candid pics, and giggling over loving long-form compliments for each other framed in the most ludicrous of presentations, they collect all their entries and hand them to Lucretia for the final arrangement.  She’d take it to the printer’s tomorrow, and by the end of the week, the _Story & Songbird Weekly_ will be all over Faerun. 

Taako is the last to hand in his entry.  He slips it in among Lup’s writings, so Lucretia doesn’t even notice as it’s handed to her.  He nods briefly, not smiling but not frowning either, and the family says their good-byes.

#

A few days later, the _Story & Songbird Weekly_ hits the newsstands of Faerun.  Predictably, it flies off the shelves.  Everyone in the world knows about the Seven Birds, the brave explorers who fought and fled the Hunger for a century.  But now they see a side of the Birds that only a few have had the privilege of seeing:  a goofy family that loves each other, a family that lifts and carries and gently teases and falls over laughing in the sunlight.  The _Story & Songbird Weekly_ is over a hundred years of love condensed into twenty pages.

And towards the middle of the issue, there is a single page-long editorial.

#

**On Forgiveness**

**An Editorial By Taako Taaco**

Birdwatcher is right.  Birdwatcher is also so fucking wrong it’s laughable.

We spent a century fighting the Hunger, and in the end we came up with a plan and you know what?  It fucking sucked.  And Lucretia did a lot of shady things to fix that.  You know that already.  She became a hardass moon-queen who kept secrets from the entire world.  She fought and lied and clawed her way up into the sky, where she ruled over a small army of soldiers and spies and fucking robots and whatever the hell Garfield is.  And she tried to do it behind her family’s back.  She tried to go it alone. 

But if there’s one thing we’ve learned from a century of fighting the Hunger, it’s that you can’t fucking do this alone.  It took all of us—all seven birds, the entire BOB, a magic boy detective, a pair of drag-racing dryads, even more robots, and most of the population of Faerun—to stop the Hunger.  Trying to do this alone was asinine. 

So no, I don't forgive Lucretia. 

But I don't forgive you, either, Birdwatcher.

Look at these pages.  Take a good long look at these goofy chucklefucks.  They’re my family, Birdwatcher, and I love my family.  _All of them._   And they saved the world.  That’s all we wanted to do for a hundred years and that’s what we fucking did, while you were probably busy seeing how far you could stick your head up your own asshole. 

And when we were done saving this world?  We kept making it _better_ , because that’s what we fucking do.  We found schools and libraries, we rebuild entire towns, we stop murder-cults and ghost fleets, we teach dogs how to be helpers and kids how to be heroes.  And all you can do is try to tear us down because you cannot believe that anyone can be that fucking amazing.

Listen, Birdwatcher, because I’m gonna lay it all out for you.  _Anyone_ who stalks my brother-in-law or messes with my sister or villainizes Lucy or disrespects my captain or otherwise even breathes foul air in the direction of my family, had better pray to all the gods that we never meet (three of whom we work for, by the way). 

In the meantime, Birdwatcher, I’m putting you on blast.  I will hold you up for humiliation and mockery as the one who dared fuck with the Saviors of Faerun.  Your name will go down in Lucretia's journals as Faerun's biggest moron.  Your caricatured visage will be on its own special line of Taako-brand toilets.  Songs will be sung of your folly, passed down through the generations from parent to child. 

So we’re weirdos and aliens.  So we’re extra, like nothing this world has ever seen.  We are more than this poor birdbrained motherfucker can comprehend, coming at you straight from the stars.  You wanna watch us, Birdwatcher? 

Then watch us be fucking amazing.

**Author's Note:**

> So this is yet another story that spawned out of a ridiculous conversation on the TFW Discord, and so here we are. Thanks to Woof for the use of their name, and Hall for their many headline suggestions. Y'all are great! Enjoy this piece of TAZ (mostly) fluff :)


End file.
